The Grand Assembly Hall was heavy with anticipation, its high ceilings echoing faintly with the subtle rustle of silk robes and whispered breaths. Queen Genie, having returned to the palace after a long absence, now stood at its center — regal, composed, her gaze steady as she surveyed the assembly before her.
Except for Jade, who remained under care at the Royal Medical Office by the Queen's direct order, all key figures of the court were present. Royal officials, generals, scholars — the very spine of the Hana Kingdom — had gathered in one place, their expressions strained under the weight of what was to come.
They all knew. Or at least, they suspected.
A brittle tension hung over the chamber, sharp as a drawn blade. Even the most seasoned officials avoided meeting each other's eyes, save for Han Son, the Minister of War, who stood with a calm that only those privy to the Queen's mind could afford. He had already discussed the matter with her in advance, and now waited in silence, as steady as stone, for her judgment to fall.
At last, the Queen's clear, steady voice cut through the stillness like the first crack of thunder before a storm. "Now that I have returned to the palace," she said, her words deliberate, every syllable weighted with resolve, "it is time to confront the matters that have been left unresolved."
Among the gathered royal officials, Ju Tak — the husband of the disgraced Lee Jan — bowed his head low, the lines on his face drawn deep with resignation. It was the posture of a man who had already surrendered to the inevitable. Once a proud noble, now he looked gaunt, his cheeks hollow, his back hunched not from age, but from shame and defeat. The revelation of his wife's treachery had reduced him to a husk of the man he once was.
Queen Genie let her gaze rest on him for a brief, silent moment — not with cruelty, but with the cold impartiality of justice.
The hall held its breath.
"Recently," she continued, "this court has been stained by a grave incident involving the selection of our envoy to the Ash Kingdom. Lee Jan, through deceit and malice, sought to ruin the honor of Jade — who had rightfully earned his place as the final candidate for the position."
A faint ripple of whispers moved through the hall.
"She manipulated evidence," the Queen pressed on, "coerced a servant into giving false testimony, and through these vile actions succeeded not only in disqualifying him, but in dragging his name through the mud before the entire kingdom."
Her voice, though calm, now carried the cutting edge of iron. "This crime cannot be left unanswered. Therefore, as of this day, Lee Jan is to be sentenced to ten years of exile, to the farthest borders of the Hana Kingdom."
Gasps broke free before the murmurs gathered strength, voices overlapping, the entire hall suddenly alive with suppressed shock. Yet none dared speak openly against her ruling. The Queen's authority stood absolute.
Some of the officials nodded solemnly, believing the punishment to be just. Others, however, cast uneasy glances toward Ju Tak, their surprise barely concealed. For a man of his stature — proud, ambitious, driven — they had expected at least a flicker of protest, some plea for clemency, some desperate grasp to preserve what power he had left.
But Ju Tak only lowered his head slightly, composed, steady, as if he had foreseen this very moment and prepared himself for it long before the Queen had spoken.
At the far edge of the assembly, Lee Baewon, Lee Jan's father and one of the kingdom's most senior ministers, let out a long, weary sigh. Ten years of exile. For such a crime, it could have been worse. Far worse. He knew as much — and for that, he felt the faintest, bitterest flicker of relief amid the weight of his disgrace.
Then, quietly, Ju Tak lifted his head.
With an expression like someone who had already let go of everything he once held dear, he spoke, his voice steady, resolute. "Your Majesty… I will accompany my wife into exile."
A ripple of shock passed through the ministers like a gust of sudden wind. Even those who knew Ju Tak well, even those who had once raised cups of wine with him, traded stunned glances. The hall seemed to tighten around his words, its grand pillars standing witness to the fall of one of the palace's most promising men.
Queen Genie blinked, hiding the flicker of surprise that rose behind her composed expression. For a moment, the woman beneath the crown surfaced — not as a queen dispensing justice, but as a person who had once known Ju Tak as her rival in the race for the throne.
"You intend," she asked evenly, "to resign from your position in the Ministry of Land… and follow your wife into exile?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ju Tak's voice did not waver. "I will accompany her to the borders, wherever you decree."
His reply sent fresh murmurs through the chamber. Ju Tak — the once-golden prodigy of the Ministry of Land. The man who, with his father's legacy behind him, had driven the kingdom's infrastructure to unprecedented heights. A man so ambitious that, in younger days, he had stood as one of Queen Genie's most formidable political rivals for the throne of Hana.
Now, in a single breath, he was casting all of it aside.
His future. His power. His legacy.
Even his closest allies in the court were unable to hide their disbelief. Some gaped openly. Others looked away, uncomfortable, unwilling to meet the gaze of a man who had just buried his own career beneath his wife's disgrace.
As the whispers continued to swell, Queen Genie's mind flickered to a memory — a quiet conversation behind closed doors, before she had departed for the frontier.
It had been late at night, the candlelight in her office flickering low as she sat with Han Son, the only one she trusted enough to reveal her inner conflict.
"Han," she had said softly, "I don't know what punishment is appropriate for Lee Jan."
"What punishment does Your Majesty wish to give her?" Han Son had replied, his voice calm, patient.
Memories of Jade's hollow expression, his shame, the false accusations that had nearly destroyed him — they burned in her chest like coals. Anger had risen swiftly, a hot and blinding thing.
"When I think of what she did… I want to imprison her immediately," she admitted. "Strip her of everything. I want the entire court to know what she did. But then…"
Then came the flash of Ju Tak's face. His devastation when the truth unraveled before him. His humiliation. His shame.
She had exhaled heavily, her anger caught between the weight of justice and mercy.
"When I think of Ju Tak, who has been suffering more than anyone… I can't do it. Not fully."
A faint smile had touched Han Son's lips, soft but knowing.
"I thought Your Majesty might say that."
"You did?"
"I have always known you to be merciful," he said gently. "But mercy alone will not stop the rot of corruption from spreading further. The crime was severe. And if we do not act decisively, such betrayals will happen again."
His words had rung true. She had known it.
"Then what do you propose?"
"Exile," Han Son had said simply. "For Lee Jan. A punishment heavy enough to deter others, but merciful enough to spare her life."
"But… What of Ju Tak?"
Han Son smiled with quiet certainty.
"He will go with her."
She had frowned then.
"Ju Tak? He's not a man who gives up ambition so easily."
But Han Son had chuckled softly, with the certainty of a man who saw further into others than most.
"Even ambition breaks when weighed against love and guilt. Ju Tak will not let her go alone."
It wasn't until that moment — the image of Ju Tak standing hollow, broken, his heart torn between his former rivalry with Jade and his loyalty to a wife who had betrayed both — that Queen Genie understood.
She had embraced Han Son's instincts, the instincts of a man who had known the inner workings of the court, and its people, far longer than she.
And now, standing in the present, hearing Ju Tak's steady, resigned words echo in the chamber, she knew Han Son had been right.
Meeting Ju Tak's gaze, Queen Genie slowly straightened her posture, letting the authority of the crown settle fully over her shoulders.
"I will delay Lee Jan's exile by one week," Queen Genie announced, her voice steady, resonating through the high-vaulted chamber. "During that time, I ask that you hand over your duties in the Ministry of Land in an orderly fashion. You have served this kingdom well."
It was a dismissal not only of office, but of an entire life's work.
Ju Tak did not answer with words. Instead, he bent low, bowing from the waist, his head lowered until the fall of his hair shadowed his expression. The bow was deep — deeper than required by etiquette, deeper than expected of a man of his stature. It was not a bow of duty, but one of farewell.
And as he stood there, bowed before the throne, the weight of finality settled over the Grand Assembly Hall like a funeral shroud.
For a brief moment, no one moved. No coughs, no shuffling of feet. Only silence — thick, uncomfortable, yet strangely reverent.
Those who had once envied Ju Tak, those who had schemed beside him, those who had benefited from his rise… all now watched him with something far more complex than mere pity. They witnessed not just the fall of an official, but the collapse of a man's entire world — and his astonishing grace in accepting it.
Here stood a man abandoning not only influence and privilege, but ambition itself — all for a woman who had betrayed him, and yet whom he would not abandon.
Queen Genie's gaze softened, not with sentimentality, but with quiet respect. In the tangled web of court politics, love was rarely more than a bargaining tool. Yet Ju Tak — for all his pride, his ambition, his former rivalry with the very throne she now occupied — stood before her now, having chosen something even the sharpest ministers could not fully grasp.
He had chosen love over legacy.
The Queen watched him, a silent weight pressing against her chest, and spoke inwardly, words meant only for her own heart.
'You have served well, she thought, the words tender, almost mournful. Not just the kingdom… but her. You have given up not only title and comfort, but your very name, your place in history… and chosen love instead.'